


Therapy

by TimelessDreamer2



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Implied First Time, M/M, Teasing, Um... Maybe H/C?, fluffly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessDreamer2/pseuds/TimelessDreamer2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese's version of therapy turns out to be something Fusco doesn't mind at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Kmmerc! 
> 
> I promised you a story, and while it is short, I did deliver. I hope you have a fantastic day!

Once again Fusco was strapped to a chair with a gun held to his head, and once again it was all Reese’s fault. He hated being tied to chairs, they were always uncomfortable straight backed and usually metal. He wasn’t too thrilled about the zip ties either, but the man holding the gun and cursing at him in Italian was more irritating.

It was all Reese’s fault. Fusco couldn’t even share the blame with Finch this time, this one was all Reese. Apparently, this specific incident had happened on Reese’s way home and of course he just had to bring Fusco into it. Honestly, Carter was never the one strapped to a cold chair at three in the morning. A little respect, not that much to ask.

A hard smack to the face, made Fusco glare up at his captor. No one special really, a two bit wanna-be trying to impress the big boys. It would be almost funny if the guy hadn’t clocked Fusco from behind with his gun while he had been chasing down a drug runner. He didn’t even know where Reese had run off to.

Apparently, the man with the gun was tired of yelling and adjusted his hold on the gun, when three shots rang out. The first took the gun out of the man’s hand while the second and third found a home in a shoulder and a knee respectively. When Fusco craned his head around to see the door, there was Reese, barely even winded, a smoking gun still hamed at the man on the floor.

“‘Bout time you showed up!” Fusco groused, any relief he felt being hidden behind a prickly exterior. “Five more seconds and you would’a been the one telling Lee that his pop was dead.” Fusco added a harsh glare to show Reese he meant every word of it.

“Really, Lionel? You didn’t honestly think I would leave you here, did you?” Reese smirked, as he casually strolled across the room to cut the detective free.

“You know what, Wonderboy? I never know with you! One of these days you might.” Fusco kept grumbling until he was free from the chair and on his feet, still glaring up at Reese. “I’m gonna need therapy if this keeps up.”

Reese’s smirk grew a bit, as he leaned down slightly. “I’m hurt, Lionel. I would never let anyone kill you, then who would I tease?”

“Yeah, sure. You got Glasses, and Carter, but I don’t see them stuck tied in a chair.”

Reese looped an arm around Fusco’s shoulders. “They wouldn’t look as good as you do in that position.” He led the still grumbling detective out of the dingy warehouse. “Why don’t we go start on your therapy, Lionel?”

“With you?” Fusco eyed Reese warily. “Might do more harm than good.”

Reese grinned briefly. “Trust me, Lionel…” He lowered his voice and leaned in close, dropping a light kiss on the man’s mouth. “I have just the thing in mind.”

 

******

 

The the broken blind did very little to block the sun from Fusco’s eyes, and he groaned in protest. The low, dark chuckle that came from just behind him had the detective snapping awake.

“‘Course, you’re a morning person.” Not even bothering to do more than move his head out of the sunlight, Fusco planned on catching another hour of sleep, but his bedmate had other ideas.

A hand slid up the broad back, fingers tracing the spine, earning a small shiver, before settling on a shoulder, it’s twin curling around the other shoulder. Muscles were pressed, stiffness eased, until Fusco let out a sigh.

“Careful, I could get used ta that.”

“Well, Lionel. I did say that I would help with your therapy.” Reese’s voice was low and amused. With one last pat, Reese slid out of the warm comforter and stretched.

Turning his head to watch the free show, Fusco blatantly eyed the show Reese was putting on. “Not too bad a start, I guess. Especially for you, Mr. Sunshine.”

The smirk that crossed Reese’s face was never a good sign. “You’ll see how good my version of therapy is, Lionel. After breakfast.”


End file.
